Tears of Sadness
by muzicfan5
Summary: Harry is attending yet another funeral...more friends die...super angsty...possible oneshot...


Silly me, I forgot to put a disclaimer up…I don't own a darn thing. Too bad…I'd be shamelessly rich if I did…

This is just a little something. I was feeling particularly moody and wrote this in class one day. I've had it for a while now and I just can't seem to come up with anything to continue it. I thought it was pretty well written so take a read if you'd like. If you have any suggestions on ways to continue this I'd love to hear them!

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The rain beat against the window pane as a boy sat on his bed. He looked so small and weak curled up on his bed. His shaggy black hair covered his face while his emerald eyes gleamed with a fresh batch of tears. His life had changed. There had been another funeral, another senseless death. He seemed to be surrounded by it. Sometimes Harry Potter was convinced that befriending him may as well be a death sentence. He had already attended too many funerals, but this one was different. This one would be different. This one was someone too close, too near.

Harry focused on his tears, willing them to stop. He sniffled slightly and began trying to look more presentable. He pulled on a black suit and made a feable attempt to straighten his hair out. Cleaning his face to try to clear away his tear-stained cheeks he saw his reflection. It was paler than usual, he looked a little like a ghost. He was thinner now, everyone was during these times. His eyes were sunken back into his head, partially because he was too thin, and partially because his eyes were red and puffy from crying. He was a shadow of the youthful, laughing boy he used to be. His life had been so full of disappointment. Harry took a deep, calming breath to remain tear-free. For the time being, he needed to be strong.

Harry arrived at the church and gave solemn nods of greeting to his friends, and members of the order. He slowly made his way to the coffin. He didn't really believe she was gone. How could she be? She had been there for him for so long. She was his rock. Picked him up when he was down, knocked him down when he got too high. She kept him stable, she kept him sane. She kept him alive. She showed him he was capable of love, despite his past. Without her, he probably would have died years ago. He looked inside the coffin, not realizing he had arrived there already. He peered inside, and his stomach began to churn. Her hair flowed around her cherubic face, framing it with tawny colored curls. Harry was amazed at how young and innocent she looked. They had been friends for twenty years, with a full fledged war waging for the better part of the last fifteen years. Throughout it all she still remained un-jaded. She smiled though everything, knowing she had her friends. She knew they would pull through together, and now, cruel fate had cut her life short. She would never see the world happy and safe again.

A million voices of a million thoughts were screaming in his brain simultaneously. Amongst all of his thoughts one echoed loud and clear. _This is the funeral of my youth._ He would never be the same. When Hermione died he lost part of himself. Tears began to flow despite the fact that no sound escaped his lips. A tear dropped off his jaw line and landed on the corner of her eye before dripping down her face too. When Harry looked down at his fallen love, he saw a single tear fall down her face. Unaware that his own tears had caused it, panic filled Harry as well as hope. She was returning to him! He began checking her for signs of life, searching so hard he was imagining her chest moving up and down with signs of breathing. He called out for help while feeling Hermione's flesh for warmth. She was so cold. Harry could only think about how much she must need him. She was helpless and he was helpless to help her. His heart sank in his chest as he waited for help to come, but it never did. Time seemed to crawl by; the clock ticking on the wall quietly seemed to have slowed down to an unbearable speed. It was as if the sand in an hourglass had gotten stuck. Harry called again, looking down at her smiling face. One of his old professors entered the room.

"Professor, please, she needs help!" Harry pleaded sounding so helpless as the words came out of his mouth.

"Son, she is beyond help…" Professor McGonagall trailed off.

Harry collapsed under his own weight and fell to the floor. He beat the carpet with his fists and tears streamed down his face.

"She can't be gone." He cried, "I still need her…" Harry's shoulders began to shake again as he wept for his fallen friend, his love. Professor McGonagall's heart broke at seeing such a sight. She knelt down on the floor and wrapped her former student into a loving, motherly embrace. With his head buried in her chest, his body quivering as he sobbed she gently rocked him back and forth while humming a tune that her mother had always hummed when comforting her children in their time of need.

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this is some hardcore angst in the making! Part of me wishes that I could actually come up with something suitable to continue with, the other part knows that it would only happen if I too was super angsty. If you have any suggestions on where to take this (if you even want it to continue that is), please send them along, that could lead to more story :-)


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